I rise early, as the weak morning rays of sunlight filter through the window. The stiffness in my joints more pronounced than on other mornings, I creak and groan into an upright position. I make my way down the amber colored hallway until I feel the familiar, well-worn staircase beneath my feet, each rasp of the maple steps playing its own unique song. I stumble into the kitchen looking for the emotional support only coffee can provide. As I sip at the dark liquid I can’t help but wonder what Emily was feeling at that moment.
What had happened last night between us? When I entered the smoke-filled billiard hall I knew something was off. It was unusually empty, no more than five or six guests mulling around, hustling for quarters to support their next go-round. She didn’t meet me with the same smile and twinkle in her deep hazel eyes that I had grown accustomed to.
We played a couple games of 9-ball: I took two out of three because she clearly wasn’t giving it her all. Usually she mopped the floor with me.
She told me we needed to talk. I hadn’t expected this after seeing her at my place the previous weekend. Everything had gone so well. The evening was a pick-an-ending play and we took turns narrating the story, making up the lines long after the lights in our small town had gone out.
Steve must have gotten to her, I thought to myself. His short blonde hair, blue eyes, and cut figure made him a regular Captain America. We never pretended to like each other, Steve and I. Our only common interest was Emily and trying to win her over.
After our third game of pool we told each other without saying a word that it was time to think about ending the evening. But rather than heading out to my old beat-up Jaguar in the parking lot, we found our way over to the bar. She ordered a Captain and Coke and I went with a vodka and cranberry. While waiting for the bartender to make our drinks, the first words out of her mouth were the ones I had feared most.
She had been talking with Steve, she told me, and he had offered her something I simply couldn’t. Security. He came from a long line of investment bankers and was destined to take over the firm. My mechanic’s salary couldn’t compete with that.
I protested that none of it mattered. I told her she was the most important thing in my life and I wanted more than anything to be with her. She looked at me with her soft hazel eyes—and said nothing. It was time to walk away and I knew it.
I took out my wallet and left a $20 on the bar. As I made my way to the exit, she didn’t even try to stop me. She just sat there, tracing lines on her glass.
I drove home, fighting the raindrops and tears that blurred my vision. Closing the front door behind me, I threw my keys onto the crate that served as a coffee table, and picked my way up that set of maple stairs, landing with a thud in my own bed.